if . . .

Voices scramble thoughts all over the forehead Like a kool aid rash from hair dying. What can you tell from fallen locks Collected and wrapped in prayer flags Storied at the feet of marriage storks? Will they take on some meaning? The silly looks, smiles and smirks reveal nothing. A black toque hides, The altar carefully kept to honor Nothing less than a life of sand and ash. I am tired, beloved, of opening my heart To the want of eyes, Vibrating fully into empty space Marking time. I rub the darkness alone, here, under the cracking plaster of the cold.  :: Note :: ... tired ... 

I am lost in a foreign city. Usually the city is  in a state of ruin. Though I meet people from my long ago past am unable to find my way & never make it to the airport. The panic wakes me up. My university degree is revoked as it is discovered I neglected to hand in a required essay. My car is broken into and ransacked. I'm mortally sick unable to die. :: Note :: ... after a four year absence Oblivio : Stories and such by Michael Barrish returns ...  in the early days of blogging before twitter & facebook and the whole notion of social media he was a favourite ... his quirky humour & wit, clean & minimal look with what I believed to be a deeper sense of purpose inspired me  ...  the reason I love a good rss reader is a subscription may lie dormant for years & suddenly come to life ... as in the past   Four Recurring Dreams   inspired this post of mine ... I missed you Michael ...  much like the etymology o...

:: Note ::  ... have always been fascinated with T. S. Eliot & Apocalypse Now ... thanks VorthosForum  ...

I   A wintastery Rice paper lanterns float on cascading milky ways. Thoughts stand frozen like star prints in the meridian. On the glacier  under the snow – the bones were crackling with the wind. Memories drift from the gauze of moonbeams – like a veiled volcano. Sleeping in the sparkling. There, I buried – forgotten in the frostline. II   Sharp claws of black scratch the surface – a curious rejection.  Roused from dream. I met an immense shadow in a pair of eyes. These meetings set out under ice  flows inside out. You see me I see you another no other. III   Go quiet as breath,   toward the density.  Troubles are a search. I hear the lament - the ballad of yesteryear. The red rhythm beats La neige blues meet We all fall down. I have been there - lying in times past gradient back traces. IV The ice fields open and he doesn't see...

Poster by Lindsey Rewuski :: Note ::  ... a training turned performance ... performed by Kristen Holfeuer & Jules Mercier | Music by Matt Voyno | Directioned by Raymon Montalbetti ... YouTube montage of For the You ... FaceBook Event Page  ...

Drama of Associology a statement Associology  is not a discipline.  It is the evidence of a drama. Drama is a relationship.  The relationship is ongoing.  Associology is an act of devotion in the relationship. I want to believe that in associology the act of drama is its own reward. I want to believe the drama, when one devotes oneself to it, extends beyond the boundaries of drama. I want to believe associology values inquiry over conclusion. To attempt to be conclusive is to attempt to make dramas that are, in effect, statements. Attempting to make a statement with associology undermines the idea that drama is a relationship. These words are a statement and they are not associology. :: Note :: ... statement heavily influenced by Douglas Witmer  ... the idea of Associology came from supervalentthought  :  A poetics of associology whose noise world sits me down in disbelief at the rare freedom of other people’s minds. Not bec...

"What is it that makes you want to write songs? In a way you want to stretch yourself into other people's hearts. You want to plant yourself there, or a at least get a resonance, where other people become a bigger instrument than the one you're playing. It becomes almost an obsession to touch other people. To write a song that is remembered and taken to heart is a connection, a touching of bases. A thread that runs through all of us. A stab to the heart. Sometimes I think songwriting is about tightening the heartstrings as much as possible without bringing on a heart attack."   - ( Life   - Keith Richards) :: Note :: ... seems like a good answer to What makes you want to create theatre? ... i enjoy reading musicians writing about themselves ....

... reaching for a perception founded on the unexpressed emotion within an image ... moments of open beauty, solid emotional tones, symbolic substance, and inherent abstraction ...  “I prefer winter and fall, when you can feel the bone structure in the landscape---the lonliness of it---the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it---the whole story dosen't show.” ― Andrew Wyeth   :: Note :: ... working title Tundra ... joy of playing with Jules & Kristen ...

The practice begins with the creation of personal material by freely improvising physical movements and vocal sounds until a clear physical and emotional association is established. A series of associations are then created. These associations are then individually refined to become as exact and repeatable as any structured movement. Once the association is refined it is called a Glyph. An aspect of Glyphs are they keep their improvised quality being immediate and may seem to the spectator to be created on the spot, but in fact are highly scored. Upon creating a series of Glyphs, they are then put together in a larger sequence called a Petroglyph. The Petroglyph is a montage of physical and vocal scores (Glyphs) combined in such a way as to create an action. Shaping the Petroglyphs through pacing, duration, tempo and dynamics allows dramatic arcs to be rendered. The Petroglyphs are then aligned and rendered again into a piece with a rhythmic coherence. For the You is made up of fou...

Kristen Holfeuer / For the You / ᕦ What happens when we remember? What happens when we delve into the memories of others? Are we entitled to the knowledge contained in the memories of those who came before us? I don’t feel like this piece was created so much as remembered. If process, form, and content all inform one another, it is only right a piece about memory should be created by remembering and then shaped like memories floating (or sometimes hiding) in the brain. - Kristen ... engages the ancestor, lets her speak giving back her voice. Tells a story to the ancestor in ourselves. For the lives of others to truly matter the ancestor must be encountered to open the present. ... Walter Benjamin in 'The Storyteller', "less an answer to a question than a proposal concerning the continuation of a story which is just unfolding." ... enlists the ancestor to an attentiveness that lives & moves from breath to breath, body to mouth, sound to word singing the world we ...

A path through the drama is merely where the words aren't: an immersion and connection. What's it about? Where is it? These are not exactly the right questions; It is an entering deeply into relationship that is the way of following. It is surrounded by actions; if it had a nature, it would be the associations all around that touch and shape the territory within it. That's where you watch, isn't it? That's how and where you wonder. Everything you've seen you've seen from it. At every instance you expect what is hidden everywhere. You know it because you are the story. :: Note :: ...... apologies to Samuel Menashe Reeds Rise From Water & Crispin Sartwell (The Green door Issue 4 Here / Now / Here ...) ...

" Training has always given me, to this day, a satisfaction - as if it appeased that part of my nervous system which has to do with rhythms. It's as if the rhythm of what they do and the way they do it, appeases, satisfies meets with the needs of that part of me which I call the animal, the nervous system: this has nothing to do with the creative force of a performance, in which the associative element is of paramount importance. This training for me: a sort of symphony of similar tensions and I can immediately spot if these tensions are like gymnastics - if I see it and it doesn't speak to me, or if on the contrary it starts to arouse a part of my nervous system, is the only way I can explain it to myself. All this was also an apprenticeship to a form of self discipline, being rigourous with oneself: don't settle for the first results, you have to continue and see what is beyond and when you meet a second result, you still have to go further ... it is a way of thinkin...

Like a dream during your sleep at night, At once understand as a certainty That all the sundry notions you have are your own mind Arisen from the sleep of ingrained tendencies. Like clouds in the sky dissolving into the source from which they have come, At once understand as a certainty That your ill-considered actions and emotions, your feelings of happiness and sorrow, Will submerge into the source from which they have emerged. Like a reflection appearing in a clear lake, At once understand as a certainty That all the sundry concrete things, although they appear so, have no substantiality about them But are the gigantic reflection of a nothingness that has and is everything. (from The Story of the Mount Potala Delights verse 139, 140 & 141. A Visionary Journey - Longchenpa Translated and annotated by Herbert V. Guenther Shambhala Publications, Inc. 1989) :: Note :: ... text for tone poem ... Part II of meetings & meande...

Then all i have to do is recognize her, lifting her voice in pansori with an upward swing on the drum or listen to murmurs of dictee behind a seamless white scrim. The endless culturation following the gentle curve of the Han, a way of grace to what is other beyond measure. Reaching for saskatoonberries little orchid, maintain the heavenly blossoms. Wholeness lost and wholeness regained. :: Note :: ... "the perception of beauty is a moral test" sentence is a quote from Henry David Thoreau ...

Early in the afternoon they were playing in the temple They were looking forward to further dancingness and singingness. They could find the presence of absence in the action of memory. They might find timescapes to share. Just beyond the industrial area they passed fire trucks and sirens, gas stations, a car wash and a truck stop sprouting rubber hoses everywhere. A girl carried an empty chair searching for the porch. Feathers fell wavering to the carpet green. The land was flat and ordered. The streets were empty. They sat against a wall of old Korean script beside the family of ten. At the table behind a man wore a shirt calling for a revolution. The rain fell off and on washing the earth never quite clean enough. They returned home turning on the soft lights. The closeness, the warmth, the silence of intimacy. The sound of a drum, pansori and minyo. Rich layers of traditional love chants. Discordant harsh play lines recited from memory stacked over the carpet green. The fullness an...

                                                           Today all was usual                a hot July afternoon there were streams of poplar seeds on side streets he had been thinking about what she had said                        What is not spoken is unspoken often Cutting for more precision          on the index finger the splinter                 could not be removed He showed her in the shade to see her ...

The morning the gum surgery was scheduled we waded through fields of mosquitoes & walked the flats in rubber jackets & hiking boots mud heavy with soaked & sloshed foot trodden soles. From the lookout we saw glorious sandbars & followed paths to whitecap along the Saskatchewan while the silence healed the previous months hurt. Eyes bathed in the bright yellow canola summoning brilliance while the hay rolled under the power lines acknowledging our own steady fault lines. I saw the goldfinch flitting ahead his body a trace against the sky, the heavy overcast clouds dispersed bringing an even heavier drowsiness. I have read the world to which this man really belongs is far away through the fissures of dream & I have climbed steps down to rivers and oceans feeling winded & humbled and been glad of the green. In every sense have I felt on good terms with a clod of soil, an unknown song, the smell of sage. I have been cordial to the grasslands windswept face and the ...

No not a shadow. Like having midday darkness at your back you can feel but you can't see. As if it were boring into your skull, the shape of a recently vanished figure. He is not living where he really lives. The door leads into a hallway and up the stairs with a sharp corner. It's not that they shared the place long but the cigarette smell stopped lingering. There was only one door and it was magnificently quiet. Looking behind requires no effort. Came another with a feeling of dissonance, almost as troublesome. Not of being absent but building belonging. They were drying the air shifting possessions from one place to another. They moved along nailing and staining without agreements. He desired to make an invisible room. He left cans and crumbs scattered throughout. There was his black cat jumping to the window sill watching every move. Broke through the screen to escape, returning when called. A scheduled group came drifting in with stomps and grunts. If this took place anyw...

It is 2011, just before the thunderstorm. Here I am, repairing, and I am bleeding. I am located at the corner of alphabet village at the bottom of the hill. I need your help. You will find me surrounded by apartments, where the trees tower especially silent during the day, where shouts and cursing rubs the back alley. We roam to make one another suspicious; to fend from eyes that bring disease. We are running on borrowed time, recycled filth in the last cycle. Mouths open/shut. We would be criminals to one another stealing or scavenging. We would be sticky, dirty and in vengeful stench. We would be lost or, at least, struggling. Be hurt. Invisible except to the most callous observer. We will be sewer water. Potash tailings of bleach. Collapsed lungs. No, we must first collect. Be reused. Be taken apart. Be lightning. :: Note :: ... hovering before rising & falling ...

It is 2011, just before the thunderstorm. Here I am, repairing, and I am bleeding. I am located at the corner of alphabet village at the bottom of the hill. I need your help. You will find me surrounded by apartments, where the trees tower especially silent during the day, where shouts and cursing rubs the back alley. We roam to make one another suspicious; to fend from eyes that bring disease. We are running on borrowed time, recycled filth in the last cycle. Mouths open/shut. We would be criminals to one another stealing or scavenging. We would be sticky, dirty and in vengeful stench. We would be lost or, at least, struggling. Be hurt. Invisible except to the most callous observer. We will be sewer water. Potash tailings of bleach. Collapsed lungs. No, we must first collect. Be reused. Be taken apart. Be lightning. :: Note :: ... hovering before rising & falling ...

... one of my ritual summerl activities used to be gardening but ever since Mom sold the house it's been a simple condo balcony flower display ... have tried herbs but they don't seem to take ... the tomato plant she still receives from old neighbour Peterson thrives ... we'll see how things grow this season ... ... sure miss the raspberry bushes & the horseradish which was totally out of control ... oh yes & we always had to be careful with the zucchini or it would rule every spare space ... Mom loved the potatoes & beets ... she would go out daily for her lettuce, onion, chives & tomato salads ... mixed results with beans & peas ... we did well with carrots havesting them in the fall ... we got a couple of pumpkins for halloween ... tulips in the front were the first sign of spring & they were the first bulbs Stefan planted ... ... the honeysuckle climbed the fence ... ... we had these huge petunias, iris plants taken from Nana's place in ...

Kafka has a dear place in my history ... ... Metamophosis , read at age 13, was the first work of fiction that made sense of the nonsense I felt around me ... after reading decided to spend a whole day as a worm at the high school ... arms entwined, squiggling from class to class ... great fun ... ... an adaptation by Steven Berkoff of The Trial was the first mainstage university production I directed (Nov. - Dec. 1989) ... an exhilarating experience ... the students were thrown into a process of me sorting through my European studies ... the retiring stage designer for that show was cleaning up his office when he found the original Trial maquette offered it to me which i gladly accepted despite wishing to unload rather than collect stuff ... photo to the left is from Emry's Dreams : Greystone Theatre in Photographs and Words taken by David Maneville ... ... Kafka resides in the deep recesses of my memory haunting as he haunted the 20th century ... await his latest incarnation ....

... well as school concluded & report cards handed out in front of the school ... ... did I mention the whole basement flooded & my office, all costumes, props, sets, scripts, computers, filing cabinents with 25 years of teaching material were lost as well as the boiler room and all electricity ... apparently it flooded to a height of six feet busting through doors ... we're not allowed back into the school until mid-August ... ... well as school concluded so did a precious working relationship draw to a close ... for the last five years principal Chad has guided us through many a storm ... transformation from a mainstream high school of over 1,400 students to a inner city abode for just over 300 has been dramatic & challenging ... ... i met her when i was in grade 11 & she a grade 9 student ... our paths though varied have crossed often during the span of 42 years ... she retires today ... one of the best ... one of the extraordinary ... her last act was to give ea...

Blessings for the Journey It has long been said that life is a journey. There are many different roads on this journey and today marks the end of one road and the beginning of another for all our graduates. Their path through high school, which for most began at E.D. Feehan Catholic High School four years, is being celebrated today with the diploma that they proudly hold in their hands. And now they step out into the big, bright, promising world ready to achieve their goals, hopes, and dreams for the future, knowing that all can be realized with God's help. There is an ancient tradition in many cultures to gift a family member who is about to begin a new journey with a travel pouch containing items that they might need on the way. At the Grade 12 retreat, these graduates received and decorated their very own travel pouches. They are marked with their name and adorned with symbols of their connection to the Feehan Family. Today as we celebrate, these pouches will be presented to the...

ᕦ ᓳᐓ ᖡ - ᙔᕱᕆᒩ ᗛᔴᗐᖲᔕᗧᗨ ᙂ ᐤ ᕦ ᕦTHA engages the ancestor, how to talk with her, how to let her speak or give her back speech in an act of counseling. Tell the story to the ancestor in ourselves. For the lives of others to truly matter the force of the ancestor must be encountered in ways that open the past wisdom of experience. ᕦTHA is, in the words of Walter Benjamin in his essay 'The Storyteller', "less an answer to a question than a proposal concerning the continuation of a story which is just unfolding." ᕦTHA enlists the ancestor to share identities of remembrance. An attentiveness that lives & moves from breath to breath, mouth to mouth, body to body, word to word & back again in the world which you carry. ... ᕦTHA ᕦ ᓳᐓ ᖡ - ᙔᕱᕆᒩ ᗛᔴᗐᖲᔕᗧᗨ ᙂ ᐤ ᕦ :: Note :: ... the abov...

Took Mom to the airport. She will be attending her sisters funeral in Ottawa. By the time I received the message & booked her ticket she was calm & collected. The voice mail message was tearful & hysterical. Mom remarked on the peaceful beauty of St. Patrick's Roman Catholic Cemetery. To rest in peace and have a place of natural beauty where family may take joyful remembrance is important. Aunt Shirley, born New York, New York Thursday the 24th day of November 1927, had been a tragic figure in the family folklore. The last time I saw her she was in the hospital. Her concerned sons were suggesting nursing home care which she was resisting tooth & nail. I had expected to visit a disoriented and weak women instead was greeted with a huge smile and loads of spunk. Despite her trials & tribulations I'm sure that's how she faced the world in her good times with smiles & spunk. She bears the name Theresa - also my sister's name & she too had a trag...

Panel “Art and Archaeology” Chair and discussant – Denis Samsonov (St. Petersburg State University) 1. Steven CHUNG (Princeton University): Cinema, Nationality, Archive 2. JEONG Ae Ran (Université Paris): Performance aesthetic and identity issues of Kumgangsan Gagukdan (금강산가극단), a professional arts troupe founded by Koreans in Japan 3. Nelly Georgieva-Russ (Academy of Korean Studies): Paintings of Immortals from the Mid-Chosŏn Period: An Album by Cho Sae-gŏl (1636-1706) 4. Maya STILLER (UCLA): "Masterpieces of Korean art" - A critical analysis of collecting and exhibiting Korean culture in Germany :: Note :: ... AeRan in Moscow ... presenting at the 2011 AKSE conference at the Moscow State University Institute of Asian and African Studies June 17 - 20 ... there she found a monument to Stanislavski ... she claimed she was wanting to touch his precious hand ... i see her trying to pick his pocket ... she is simply amazing in her dedication & drive ... i am in awe ...

Dueck shares her disappointment regarding mediation process In perhaps her most frank comments to date during this protracted round of negotiations, Dueck implored teachers to remember that this has come to the point where it’s about much more than just the monetary issues. “We want to make sure our actions are not hurtful to teachers and the education system. This is bigger than about your pocket book– what we are also doing is trying to ensure that public education has a strong future, that it’s not destroyed in this province.” Saskatchewan Bulletin Vol 77 Number 10 :: Note :: ... negotiations by teachers with the breakdown of mediation talks seem headed towards ... well based on recent government actions ... not pleasant ... heart-rendering to advocate for education in a culture that revolves around an ill-conceived & short-sighted business agenda, a period of the privatisation of education ... but teaching itself is still fulfilling ...

(Photograph by: Submitted photo, courtesy Arthur Despins) “What I’m interested in is creating a relationship with an audience where we all say, ‘We don’t know,’” says Bentley-Fisher. “I find theatre often excruciatingly boring, because we all go there and celebrate what we know, and I find that really tedious — I want to go with people to where we don’t know, where we all take that chance. It’s not that we don’t care — we all want to know very, very badly — but it’s being willing to take that chance of not knowing. And colluding with an audience, saying, ‘This is well worth it, let’s all discover, let’s all try to find it out.’ “So, we’re very ambitious. We’re trying to get to the heart and the truth of something. That’s where our ambitions lie.” ( Planet S | From Catalonia With Love | May 19-June 1 Vol.9 Issue. 19 ) "Buffalos by Pau Miró dealt with the repercussions of an unstable family life, the physical abuse and the abandonment of a group of siblings who will have to fight f...

... continued from Unfinished thoughts Part 1 "Molik: Everybody should be completely free, with imagination and all that is necessary to stimulate a creative process, while making really clean actions."(p. 13) This is the test for any working process. A pain of lack gives birth to possibility. We need to overcome obstacle. We need space around us and precious pockets of time wherein nothing is required then maybe something may occur. We need an intensified reach, indiscriminate exchanges that are often linked with notions of body memory. We need a sense of uncontainability, a transgression of boundaries, a porosity and indeed the conviviality, of what has been treated as opposed: information and matter, imaginative and biological, body and mind, organic and non-organic life. :: Note :: ... after sessions of practicality ...

A wonderful moment at The Mendel Art Gallery of Saskatoon with the student artists talk. Since it's inauguration in 1972 the annual Spring School Art Exhibition has been a favorite of mine. "School Art is in keeping with the vision of Gallery founder Fred Mendel. It was Mendel's conviction that art is for people of all ages and walks of life. (Folio MendelArtGallery Vol. 39, Issue 2: Spring 2011) The young artist in the picture spoke with confidence and composure. Others were shy but all were received with genuine warmth. The Gallery was full of excitement and celebration articulating the joy of creativity. A grade one boy slouched against the wall hands in pockets casually confirmed "the cutting of his paper collage took a lot of time." Another self-composed youth produced a finished work which came from the study which now hung in the exhibition. Each work was treated with deserved respect. Afterall 200 artworks were selected from the 2,000 submitted pieces....

ancient troubadour dark glint of violence and amorality inhabits stark ugliness upfront archetypal misogyny nothingness :: Note :: ... created as an erasure ... missing ...

How much irony can one take? I ran away to get away from my Father but, I only fell in-likeness with a reflection of him. At first it was quite beautiful, not caring and witnessing him as I opened my tired eyes. But as I grew farther away from the one man I hated I grew closer to a younger version of him. He was something I craved for - a bad boy. He had such a pretty face, marble blue eyes and honey coloured hair. He also had God-like hands that easily explored my body. He smelled like the ocean, so calm and quiet. He was what I adored, wanted, needed and craved for. And, just as I thought irony ended it spat more in my face. He was like my silent addiction. Just like the one my father and him shared. As pure as the cocaine their body craved, I wanted our hearts to beat to the same rhythm. Was it even humanly possible to love a reflection of someone you HATED? But then again was I that rude to assume I was human? What if I was a lost soul, a sad ghost or a hideous monster? He always g...

Spent a few hours after teaching driving voters to their polling stations. A little bit of field work, I thought. The poverty was startling. Run-down apartment blocks, small dilapidated houses, streets dirty and pot-holed. A single mother with four little ones leaving the oldest in charge bringing her nineteen year old to vote for the first time. They knew the party leader they wanted to vote for but not the name of the riding representative. They resided on a busy, noisy thoroughfare and when asked if it was loud replied yes it was a difficult place to live. A talkative thirty something, labored breathing, living with his working girl friend collecting disability insurance after two bouts in the hospital dealing with lung cancer. Fighting to get re-trained, unable to pay for his drugs and therapy wondering how to survive. Another thirty something coming out of a single room home with ten people crowded around a TV. He's the only one in possession of proper ID to vote. The next doo...

After a local newspaper article Election has candidates all a-Twitter decided to contact Riding Saskatoon-Rosetown-Biggar candidates and engage in a twitter Q&A. All candidates had an account (Apr. 30, 2011): @KellyBlockcpc 285 Tweets 280 Following 1,189 Followers 136 Listed @Nettie_Wiebe 55 Tweets 189 Following 201 Followers 23 Listed @vicki_strelioff 135 Tweets 35 Following 29 Followers 4 Listed @leereaney2011 2 Tweets 9 Following 11 Followers 1 Listed Nettie Wiebe (NDP), Vicki Strelioff (Green) & Lee Reaney (Liberal) all started Twitter accounts for the 2011 election. Incumbent Kelly Block (CPC) started an account April 4, 2009 . Usage speaks for itself. Began with a Prologue - introductions and seeing possibilities. Primary intention was to ask a series of questions. Needed to alert that the arts are important. Also posted relevent arts links from page numbers of their particular par...

Finished reading, Zygmunt Molik's Voice and Body Work: The Legacy of Jerzy Grotowski by Giuliano Campo with Zygmunt Molik . My debt to Zygmunt has previously been noted . My thoughts revolve around 'tradition'. Molik: The tradition. Follow the tradition. That's all. And everyone brings something new to the tradition and in this way it goes on. It's very simple. There's nothing more to say. (28) Campo Note: I have to clarify that Molik's idea of tradition relates to research of the sources of each human being rather than the theatrical roots. In fact he created his own techniques and never referred to any other method, whilst still claiming to belong to the tradition. This is indeed the specific approach reveled by the operation of maieutics as an exploration of the self. (188) My acting classes often conclude with a statement to the effect I come from the 'Grotowski tradition' and more specifically the voice work, though completely my own responsib...

snow gone so go o o - :: Note :: ... playing with korean word 소조 (sojo) ... as Ae Ran writes her Moscow presentation ...

The Riversdale Community Association hosted an All Candidates Debate Forum for the federal riding of Saskatoon-Rosetown-Biggar on Thursday, April 28th at 7 p.m. Thanks to Community association president Doug Ramage for all his efforts to make this possible. The room was full of maybe a hundred and started with opening statements. Each candidate answered four questions from the chair: 1) The Environment 2) Health 3) Housing and 4) Riding Priorities. Candidates then directed questions to each other followed by an open microphone on far ranging issues: Defense, Treaty obligations, Agriculture, Food and Drugs, Unemployment Insurance, Poverty, Advocacy Rights, Student Tuition & Costs, Water Fluoridation and First Nation University funding. The candidates though reluctant to pose questions to each other answered all constituent questions succinctly with clarity and respect. There was in the room a looming sense of absence - in fact Nettie Wiebe directed her question to the missin...